In the early morning thousands of
metallic green and cream-coloured pigeons and large green doves came
to feed on the golden yellow fruit of a species of fig tree (FICUS),
which grew on the edge of the forest near the chief's hut. They made
a tremendous noise, fluttering and squeaking as they fought over the
tempting looking fruit.
We took five Negritos to carry the rice and my baggage -- two men,
two women, and a boy. The women, though not much more than girls,
were apportioned the heaviest loads; the men saw to that, and looked
indignant when I made them reduce the girls' loads. As we continued
on our journey, I noticed that our five Negrito carriers were joined
by several others all well armed with bows and extra large bundles of
arrows, and on my asking Vic the reason, he told me that these Buquils
we were going to visit were very treacherous, and our Negritos would
never venture amongst them unless in a strong body. As we went along
the narrow track in single file some of the Negritos would suddenly
break forth into song or shouting, and as they would yell (as if in
answer to each other) all along the line, I could not help envying them
the extreme health and happiness which the very sound of it seemed to
express; my own head meanwhile feeling as if about to split.
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